The Art of Apology
by Curious Forgotten Lore
Summary: The argument had been Seto’s fault. Their arguments were always Seto’s fault. Why couldn’t he just apologize? A Seto Kaiba Ryou Bakura oneshot.


The Art of Apology

By: Curious Forgotten Lore

AN: This story is my first writing venture in the Yu-Gi-Oh fandom. It's just a short, fluffy Seto/Ryou shonen-ai piece (Those who do not like shonen-ai, please turn back now. I truly dislike flames)

If you love Seto/Ryou but are not a member of the C2 community, I will shamelessly promote it now.The manager is Relinquished, so clink on the link from her bio.

Thanks to yami no hikari for beta services, for help with the title, and for all the encouragement. You're the best.

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**Forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it. Anonymous**

Seto shook his head and carefully fingered the flap of the silvery envelope. He knew what it was; it was the same after every fight. Thick, silvery, iridescent, stationary silently waiting for him on the sapphire blue armchair in Seto's study, just as always.

If there was one thing absolutely critical for a person to have to survive being close to Seto Kaiba, it was patience. Unlimited patience and gentle understanding. Seto was lucky he had found someone who possessed such attributes. The vision of chocolate brown eyes and pure white hair danced before Seto's eyes and he quickly pushed it away, glaring at the envelope. He knew what the envelope held, and his fingers itched to destroy it. What it held was something he desperately needed, but despised as well.

It was an apology.

Ryou knew Seto was not good with apologies. He understood about Seto's need to never back down. He knew of Gozaburo's 'lessons' and how they had turned him into a man with this foolish all-or-nothing view. Complete victory or utter failure. No in-between. No room for forgiveness. No room for weakness. No way to concede, even if he were terribly wrong.

Ryou understood. And that was why, regardless of who started the fight, what it was about, or how deeply it had hurt him, Ryou always apologized. Even when he knew it was not his fault; Ryou apologized, because he knew Seto could not.

Seto stared at the silvery envelope with the familiar cursive writing from the black felt-tipped pen that Ryou liked so much. A part of him wanted to rip up the letter in fury while another part desperately wanted to cling to the thick stationary until his Ryou came back.

The argument had been Seto's fault.

Their arguments were always Seto's fault.

Why couldn't he just apologize? Why couldn't he swallow his pride for once in his life and tell Ryou he was sorry? Why did Gozaburo's words echo in Seto's mind as if the man had never left when in fact he had been dead for years now? Why couldn't all those unpleasant lessons have been buried with the hateful old man?

Would the echo of those words never leave? Would Gozaburo forever haunt Seto?

Would those two words ever come from Seto's lips? Such simple words, but so frustratingly difficult to say. More difficult than requesting help; Seto had done that grudgingly for Mokuba's sake. More difficult than 'I love you'; Seto had managed to find the words to say that to Ryou before.

Why the hell couldn't he just say "I'm sorry"? What was so difficult about "forgive me"?

Just two little words. Two impossibly frightening little words.

Seto battled within himself as he stared at the silvery envelope; stationary he had bought for Ryou as a gift. Stationary Seto had only seen used for these notes of apology. Finally, very gently, Seto opened the envelope and pulled out the folded paper.

_Seto,_

_Yesterday evening, we clashed once more regarding your work hours. This is no new argument and I should not have become so emotional because of it. The points I made last night are valid, Seto. You need to cut back on your work, for it is unhealthy. You need to spend more time with Mokuba; he misses you terribly. While I suppose not strictly necessary, I'd like more time with you, too. You cannot ignore these facts forever, and so I remind you of them once more._

_There are times when I look at our relationship and cannot comprehend where we are going or what we hope to achieve together. There are times when you simply infuriate me, with your arrogant boasting, your foolish posturing, and your desperately misguided priorities. There are times when I wonder "what lunatic would want to spend their life with that idiot?" _

_Through all those times, however, in every moment of my day and in every breath I take, I remember, despite all your follies, that you are nothing short of remarkable. Without a single doubt, I know that always, **always**, there is a little voice in my head that desperately pleas that I may be that lunatic, and that you might forever be my idiot._

_I am at the hotel next to the museum. Please come bring me home._

_Love,_

_Ryou_

Carefully folded into the note was the credit card-like electronic door key.

Seto felt a strange smile twist at his lips. He was, strange as it was to admit, proud of Ryou. The apology was subtle, not groveling as those from Seto's subordinates at work so often were. It was not blunt and direct, as Ryou's usually were. It did not avoid the issue; rather, the letter confronted it. The letter even came right out and called him and idiot, and still Seto smiled.

For as always, it let Seto off the hook without apologizing.

Ryou was getting good at this.

Seto scowled. Ryou had no reason to have perfected apologies. Just as there was no reason Seto should be used to driving over to the nice little hotel beside Domino Museum to retrieve his lover after another of their silent reconciliations.

So why was Seto holding an envelope with an exemplary apology and looking for his car keys?

Was pleading for forgiveness truly that difficult for Seto Kaiba?

Yes. It truly was.

But weren't all things worth doing difficult? Hadn't Seto struggled to gather his emotions before he could tell Ryou what he felt for him? Shouldn't this, too, be an epic battle within his heart; a personal demon he would one day vanquish?

It was, Seto decided as he finally located the car keys and pulled on his favorite blue trench coat. And today would be the day.

The drive was familiar, almost comforting in a way. Or perhaps it was knowing that he was getting closer to Ryou by the minute that brought Seto a hint of relief. The parking garage was somewhat empty, as Domino's tourist season was long past. Seto parked beside the elevator and jabbed the button, impatient to find the room whose number was so firmly embossed on the key card. His journey at an end, Seto knocked on the door to announce his presence.

Ryou didn't reply; he never did. Seto took out the key, unlocked, and opened the door. He walked into the room and closed the door behind him. His eyes immediately traveled to the window, where the curtains had been pulled back and the evening sun cascaded in, enchantingly illuminating Ryou's beautiful face. Ryou opened his eyes and looked over at Seto. A smiled graced his features and Ryou stood and crossed the room, wrapping Seto in a warm embrace. Seto gratefully wrapped his arms around Ryou and rested his cheek against the familiar soft hair.

After a long moment, Seto pulled away and looked down at Ryou. "Ryou, I--" Seto began, but his voice died away. Mentally, he finished _I'm sorry_, annoyed he couldn't say the rest aloud. Perhaps he wasn't quite ready to say it to Ryou's face, Seto decided, and pulled Ryou close once more to avoid those eyes. He tried again, "Please…" but that too faded away before he could add _forgive me_. A voice in his head berated him for failing as a piece of his heart broke, knowing Ryou must be so disappointed.

The hand on Seto's shoulder moved, gently caressing the increasingly tense muscles. "I know, Seto." Ryou whispered. "I forgive you."

Today was the first time Ryou had said that. Seto's uneasy partial apology was the best he had ever done, as shaky as it was. Ryou didn't need Seto's words; he knew Seto was sorry. It might be nice to hear him say so, but Seto's obvious inability to articulate the words made these small steps far more precious than the hollow apologies from Ryou's frequently absent father or the offhanded, insincere contrition offered by Yugi and the others when they failed to include him. Seto's statements may not have been eloquent or polished, but they were sincere. In the end, that was what mattered.

Seto kissed the top of Ryou's head. "Be my lunatic?" he requested softly.

Ryou let a small laugh escape him. "Always. Be my idiot?"

"For as long as you'll have me." Seto promised, his heart filled with an unknown euphoria and he wondered absentmindedly if this was what people meant by _making up is the fun part_. He leaned down to press his lips to Ryou's and felt Ryou's hands move up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. Ryou was stepping backwards, guiding Seto along with him until he fell back onto the bed, dragging Seto down on top of him.

Seto smiled down at Ryou and thought to himself that they'd be alright; even if today wasn't the day he learned to say he was sorry. For as long as Seto needed him to, Ryou would forget that he deserved better than Seto's broken apologies. Ryou would gently coax him to be a better person, but not begrudge him his missteps along the way. Ryou would stay by his side until the echoing voices in his head were no longer Gozaburo's harsh commands, but Ryou's gentle promises of love and forgiveness.

That was all Seto could ever ask of him.


End file.
